


Flirt

by aroceu



Series: the new fashion [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Always a Girl!Niall, F/F, Genderswap, always a girl!Harry, always a girl!Liam, always a girl!zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/pseuds/aroceu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is head cheerleader and bakes and somehow she's working with Liam, who's nothing but class president, on planning their school's powderpuff game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flirt

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY, so idk how this turned up at this length, oops. but it's for fannyann @ tumblr because she sort of [prompted it](http://fannyann.tumblr.com/post/43062374749) and I... tried to make Liam grumpy but THEY ENDED UP BEING FRIENDS REAL SOON, OH WELL. Also I have no idea how powderpuff games work so bear with me, I know they're usually (American) football but whatever they can have basketball powderpuff games too. Because Liam played basketball. And High School Musical things.
> 
> Also this is sort of American high school AU bc I don't know how the British schooling system works soooooooo. But they're all still British? uh. this is a fic, roll with it, please.
> 
> also this is the first long one direction fic I've written!! yay

Liam’ll be the first to admit that she’s not exactly excited about this. Because she doesn’t have anything against the cheerleaders--sure--but when you’re working with head cheerleader Harry Styles, who flirts with everyone in school and has perfect long brown ringlets all the way down to her back--well, Liam likes to think that she has a pretty good reason to be straining her face into a smile right now.

“Class president, huh?” Harry glances at her speculatively. She’s all confident, with her back arched straight, in boots and a skirt and a low-cut top. And she shouldn’t even be able to look that elegant with an ugly green backpack slung over both shoulders.

She’s also got big earnest eyes and dimples, which she uses on Liam and it’s _completely_ unfair.

“What do you do, sit around and give orders all day?” says Harry.

“No,” Liam says, and resists the urge to add _don’t be stupid_ because she knows Harry isn’t. (They share one class together, Physics.) “I help decide what school events are going to happen and appoint leaders in charge of each and make sure that the other members of student council do their duty.”

“Huh,” says Harry, and then giggles to herself. “Duty. Right.”

Liam stares. Did she really just giggle at a terrible unintentional poo joke?

When they reach the gymnasium--that’s where they’d been headed, after all--Harry asks, “So, are you going to play?”

“Maybe,” says Liam. It’s obvious that Harry’s trying to make small talk, and while Liam sort of appreciates the sentiment, she’s not really up for it. “So what d’you reckon any decorations ought to be?” she asks, because unfortunately that's how their school works.

“Hmm. I was thinking a big banner,” says Harry. “Or maybe balloons! Or maybe--” she runs over to the bleachers “--we can give each student a paper or something that spells out _FACTOR HIGH_ when they all hold theirs up, like in High School Musical!”

“This is a powderpuff game, not a football match.” Liam sighs. She can’t believe she’s missing math for this. She’ll have to hound Louis for notes, even though the idea of Louis taking notes in class is laughable.

“Right, sorry, got a little carried away there.” Harry lets out another little laugh, like a tinkle. “What do you suggest?”

“We can do the banner, it shouldn’t be that hard,” says Liam. “It shouldn’t cost anything--I’m sure we have an old banner scrapped somewhere. The game’s basketball this year, so may--”

“Oh it’s basketball? Then you _should_ play!” says Harry. “You were on the girls’ basketball team for a bit, weren’t you?”

“How do you know that?” Liam says, and then frowns. “And you should’ve known what this year’s game was going to be, didn’t--”

“I assumed it was going to be football again, like last year,” says Harry, shrugging. “Also, I never check my email.”

Liam is fuming. No. Liam is not fuming. Liam is calming down. _You can do this_ , she tells herself.

It’s just that Harry’s so perfect but hopeless at the same time and Liam may or may not be screaming in her head that, _why is she the one stuck with this job?_

“Right,” she says through gritted teeth. “So, large banner, and something to do on the hoops.”

“We could paint them with washable spray paint,” Harry suggests. “And maybe like, little streamers. Oh, and are we still using those noise thingies from last year? The ones that look like big penises?” She giggles.

Liam _might_ be getting a migraine. “Yes, and sure that works,” she says. “And I think the period is almost over, so I need to get to my next class.”

She exits with the briefest of goodbyes to Harry, and tries to not look like she’s running.

*

She makes it to study hall, and practically collapses into her usual seat, in front of Louis.

“Tough period?” Louis says, looking up from drawing on his supposed Spanish homework.

“It wasn’t even a class,” Liam grumbles under her breath, because loath for anyone to hear her complain about the head cheerleader. “I was planning the powderpuff game with Harry Styles, and--”

“Ooh, Harry Styles,” says Zayn, walking in (and Liam _swears_ that the whole study hall class looks at Zayn, and not because she’d said Harry’s name). Zayn plops her tiny backpack in a seat across from them and then perches herself on the edge of the chair. “What about Harry Styles?”

“Liam gets to spend every waking hour with her, apparently,” says Louis, and Zayn says, “Lucky.”

“You both, be quiet,” says Liam, darting her eyes around. Their classmates seem to not care, though, and their teacher is chattering away to some other students, so.

Liam sighs. “I always thought study hall was supposed to be for studying.”

“Good thing we got lucky then,” says Zayn. Zayn studies as little as Louis does.

“Why is it,” says Liam, “that I’m class president, yet my best friends are the two laziest people in school?”

“Because you need someone to wind you down, Liam,” says Louis cheerfully. “And everyone knows that class presidents need a male sidekick and a hot leggy friend.”

“And we are the epitome of both,” Zayn says.

Liam prays to the high school gods ( _do you like torturing me or is this just a test?_ ) and then says, “Okay, but powderpuff game. With Harry Styles. A week shouldn’t be too bad, right?”

“A week? You get to spend a week with her?” Zayn squawks. “I am _jealous_ , Liam, have you seen those curves on her--”

“Have you ever talked to her?” Liam says.

“Oh, I’m sure she can’t be that bad,” says Louis. “I have history with her, she always passes me the hole puncher whenever I need it.”

“What do you need a hole puncher for?” asks Zayn.

“And what do you mean ‘whenever’?” adds Liam. “How many times have you needed to use it?”

“For making confetti, and every class,” says Louis. “It pisses Grimshaw off, okay, and--”

Liam doesn’t even bother letting him explain the rest. “I don’t know why I know you,” she says.

*

Okay, so maybe she’s given Harry a little too much credit for annoying her. Harry isn’t really terrible the next day, not making anymore poo jokes and giggling at everything, and seems to know perfectly well what she’s doing when they make team lists during second period again.

“So you _are_ playing,” Harry says when she sees Liam’s name on the list. She smiles up at her. “Would that be considered fair?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” says Liam, looking over the list of boys who’d signed up to cheerlead. Oh no. Oh no, _no_. They have a drastic shortage of cheerleaders.

“Because you were on a team before!” says Harry enthusiastically. “And I’m sure you were great, I mean, look at your legs!” She grins at Liam, but frowns when Liam continues staring at the paper with only five boys’ names signed up, two of them looking like fake names just for a joke. “What’s wrong, Liam?” Harry asks.

“We don’t...” Liam sighs and puts the paper down. “It’s nothing,” she says with a trying smile. “I mean, we don’t have to have cheerleaders this year, it’s pretty obvious no one cares about the girls' sports at this school.”

Harry snatches the paper from off her desk, and then she’s frowning as well. “Only five boys?”

“Three,” Liam sighs. “I’m betting ‘Edward Cullen’ and ‘Simon Cowell’ are jokes. I doubt our principal wants to be a cheerleader.”

“He could!” says Harry. “And this isn’t fair, why isn’t--I mean, plenty of _my_ guy friends say that they’re going to the game.”

“Evidently not as cheerleaders then,” Liam says.

“This isn’t fair,” says Harry again, shaking her head. “You see _us_ cheering at all _their_ games, but when it comes to something like this--no, you know what?” she says to Liam, standing up. “We _will_ get boys to sign up.”

“There isn’t anything we can do, Harry,” says Liam. “We can’t force them, this whole thing is voluntary--”

“ _I’ll_ get boys to sign up,” Harry interrupts. “With, y’know.” She gestures to herself--her top, which is a cute blue number, and her white miniskirt. Also, her hair is curled perfectly, and all Liam can think is _how_.

She glances away before it looks like she’s staring. “Right, well you do that,” she says, skimming over their other papers. “How are the girls teams working out?”

“Good. I think I’ve got it all done,” Harry says cheerfully, sitting back down and then handing her paper to Liam. “Tell me what you think.”

Liam reads down all the names. The teams aren’t perfect, obviously, because that’s not what they’re striving for--balance is key, and the teams _are_ almost perfectly balanced. “How did you do this?” she says, because she hadn’t pegged Harry as the _that intelligent_ type.

“Random,” says Harry, and when Liam looks at her in disbelief, she laughs and says, “Okay, maybe not random. I just grouped all the girls I knew with some athletic history and a little and a lot and then divided them by grade and then into teams. It’s not that hard.”

Liam nods, even though she knows that she would’ve slaved over it thinking things like _but so-and-so is almost but not quite as good as so-and-so_ and _she can’t be on this team if they’ve already got her_. It’s almost infuriating how easy it’d been for Harry, but a little part of Liam is impressed, too. Harry’s smiling at her across the table, dimples digging deep into her cheeks.

“This is a nice room,” says Harry, curling her knees up to her lap and resting her legs against the table. At least she’s not like Louis, who sprawls just about everywhere whenever they come here to hang out (on Louis’s insistence, and only occasionally for lunch when he and Zayn are cramming their homework.) “You do all your meetings in here?”

“Yeah, well it’s not the student council room for nothing,” says Liam, flipping through their papers again.

Harry watches her. “Don’t we need to raise money?” she asks, after a bit. “Aside from this whole sports thing?”

“Oh, right!” Oh god, Liam is so out of it. She blames Harry, who’s really quite distracting. Harry’s whole _I’ll get the boys to sign up_ thing is lurking somewhere in the corner of Liam’s mind and she can’t get it out. “What do you suggest we do?” she asks hurriedly, looking up and then back down.

Harry lights up like a sparkler and says, “Bake sale! It’s a classic. Plus, I bake.”

“All right,” says Liam, grabbing a piece of paper and handing it to her. “You’ll be in charge of that then. Get a group of people who’ll be willing to help out with that--make posters and things, and don’t forget to mention that money’ll be going to the Breast Cancer Awareness Foundation--you’ll be able to do that, right?”

“Of course!” Harry beams. Then she looks at the paper in her hand. “But, er, why do I have this again?”

“So you can list people and baked goods and things. You’ll need to do that, won’t you?”

Harry blinks. “Er, I don’t think I do,” she says. “I just have to find people and ask them to donate some baked goods and things right? A few of my friends bake and what we don’t have I can make on my own!”

Liam is seriously questioning Harry’s confidence versus her actual skill. “Right,” she says, trying to shove it away and comforting herself with the thought _it’s not my problem now, it’s hers_. “Well the bake sale should be from tomorrow until Friday so you should get on that today.”

“Okay!” Harry is chipper and Liam is getting a headache again. “What’ll I need?”

“You’ll want to talk to the treasurer about getting a cash register to keep the money. Also I’ll reserve the announcements table for you during lunches,” says Liam, scribbling so in her little to-do pocketbook that she keeps with her. “What lunch do you have?”

“Um, third. And you can do that? I thought that was a teacher thing,” says Harry. When Liam looks back up, she sees that Harry’s eyes are wide.

Liam can’t help but give her a smile. “Right, no, it’s a student council thing.” Funny, she hasn’t seen Harry around during third lunch. But maybe that’s because she’s never really looked.

“That’s cool.”

Harry giggles suddenly, which--well, it's not an unpleasant sound, Liam will admit, but it catchers her off guard. “I’m here alone with the _class president_ ,” Harry says, grinning at Liam. “This is a first.”

“Oh.” Liam feels her cheeks grow warm, and doesn’t know how to look at Harry without making it not obvious. “It really doesn’t mean anything,” she says quickly. “I mean. Being class president and all. People say it’s a popularity contest and everything.”

“Yeah but it’s not, isn’t it?” says Harry earnestly. “I mean, you’re well-liked, but you’re also like. On top of all of this. With papers and all.” She gestures at the mess in front of Liam.

“This doesn’t mean anything either,” says Liam, though she ducks her head because maybe she’s sort of blushing even harder. Harry with her brown curls like a waterfall down her back and springs down her cheeks is a little too much for her.

“Like, who better to make class president?” Harry’s grinning. Now she’s _definitely_ trying to make Liam uncomfortable.

“I’m not that great,” says Liam, sorting through the papers again. She sees the list of the five boys’ names on the cheerleader signups and stops thinking about Harry because _crap_. “I retaliate really badly when I’m angry, and I’m struggling in three classes,” she replies dismissively.

“Well everyone does things they regret when they’re angry, don’t they? And who doesn’t have trouble in classes?”

“You’re giving me far too much credit,” Liam refutes, and then sighs. Her migraine might be coming on again. “Are you any good at math? Would you mind figuring out the sum for how much money we’ll need to make at the bake sale while I do all--” she gestures to her papers, which probably mostly consist of things she’s needed to sign off on since last week “--this?”

“Sure!” Harry says brightly. “I don’t mind at all!”

*

“She doesn’t mind math?” says Louis when they’re walking to lunch. He’d been absent in study hall, during which Zayn slept and Liam figuratively cried over her English homework. “That’s it, Harry Styles must be Satan.”

“Right, because that makes sense,” says Liam. “Also I’m probably going to fail this quarter and it’ll be your fault, you know.”

“My fault? I’ll be failing too so you can’t blame me,” says Louis. “And it’s only the first quarter, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Liam rolls her eyes. She knows Louis can say that because he _won’t_ ; he can get a lot done well in a short amount of time even if it’s procrastination. But when Liam tries really hard, only rarely does she do any better than average.

“At least she’s not as annoying as you thought she was,” says Zayn, swinging her lunch bag.

Liam shrugs. “She’s alright. She’s kind of...” Distracting, she wants to say, though then Zayn and Louis will want explanation and Liam won’t really know what to say. What’s distracting about Harry, really? Mostly looking at her, which is enough, and Liam can feel her cheeks getting warm again and hopes Zayn and Louis don’t notice.

Zayn’s saying, “Yeah, but no cheerleader girl will want to go for me,” and Louis is saying, “That’s ridiculous, anyone would want to go for you,” which is true and Liam is privately glad that both of them have such narrow attention spans.

“Any type of person of any gender will want to go for you,” Liam chimes in. “Zayn, you’re like. Gorgeous. And artsy.”

“The girls in my 3D art class keep looking at me. I think they think I’m weird.”

“Or maybe they just like looking at you, Zayn,” says Louis, and Liam nods in agreement. Zayn may not be Harry, but she’s got these legs and neck and tattoos and ridiculously wavy black hair that falls past her shoulders.

They make it to the cafeteria and Zayn sighs helplessly. “I’ve accepted that I’ll be living my whole life alone in my art studio in my basement,” she says. “Which sounds okay, right? It sounds okay. Liam, you’ll live with me, right?”

“At the time and rate she’s spending with Harry already?” Louis teases. “Please.”

Liam bumps Louis with her elbow. “You’ve got to stop joking about that.”

Zayn goes to their usual lunch table while Liam and Louis grab and pay for their food at the kitchens. When they come back, Louis spots the cheerleaders’ table immediately. “Look, there she is,” he says, nodding toward a head full of gravity-defying curls.

Liam looks away immediately. “Seriously, Louis,” she says.

“Don’t lie to me,” says Louis. “I know you’re interested. _I’m_ interested.”

“Eleanor Calder,” Zayn reminds.

“Would be interested,” Louis corrects. “Except for the fashion icon who’s destined to be my soulmate.”

“You’ve met her, like, once,” says Liam.

“Yeah,” sighs Louis dreamily. “I did, didn’t I?”

Zayn rolls her eyes but she glances to the cheerleaders’ table too. “Looks like Harry’s got boys all over her anyways,” she says. “It _is_ a lost cause, Liam. You’re living in my basement with me.”

“It’s not a lost cause and I’m not living anywhere with you, could you imagine the mess?” says Liam. “And what?” she adds, confused, because there aren’t any boys at the cheerleaders’ table.

Zayn’s not looking there anymore, though. “She’s all over the boys right now,” she says. “Flirting it up, I’ll say.”

Liam turns around. Harry’s at the table where the footie players usually sit, talking to a group of boys and twirling her hair around her index finger. And she might be batting her eyelashes, which are long enough that Liam can see them from here.

She’s also got a small blond friend with her, who’s wearing an even shorter mini skirt than Harry usually wears, and is eating a cheesesteak rather messily.

“Cheerleaders,” Zayn says wistfully. “My kryptonite.”

“At least you still have a chance,” says Louis. “And Liam has even a bigger chance with Harry, because--”

“I don’t _want_ a chance with Harry,” says Liam. “And I hate you, Louis.”

Louis just throws one of his chips at her.

*

“Eighteen,” says Harry cheerfully. When Liam looks up at her in confusion, Harry says, “Eighteen male cheerleaders. That should be enough, right?”

“I guess so,” says Liam. “I mean, yeah. It’s better than five.”

Harry looks pleased with herself. “Anything else I can help with? Bake sale’s starting today, right?”

“Right. You didn’t forget, did you?” Liam can feel herself panicking again.

“No, no, just making sure that I didn’t carry all these to school for nothing.” Harry plops down two grocery bags which look like they have five plastic containers _each_ , of cookies and brownies and such.

Liam gapes. “You made all of those?”

“Well yeah. Told you I could cook, didn’t I?” Harry smiles. “Wanna try one?”

Liam nods, but also says, “Didn’t you have homework or anything? How long did this take you?”

“Oh, a couple of hours or so. I had my friend help,” says Harry, putting her backpack down as well. “Actually, she’ll be at the sale today. You can meet her.”

“Right, yeah, okay,” says Liam, as Harry gets to opening one of the bags. “And how’s the banner coming along?”

“We finished after school. The cheerleaders, I mean,” says Harry. “That’s in here.” She bumps her backpack with her hips. Which Liam notices. Also her skirt, and Liam should probably stop being so fixated on Harry’s body and actually do things.

“Here’s your cookie,” says Harry, handing her one. “You don’t mind chocolate chip, right?”

“Of course not, who does?” says Liam, and takes it before glancing toward Harry’s backpack. “Can I see the banner?”

“I thought the invitation was obvious enough,” Harry says cheekily.

Liam resists the urge to do something friendly back, like roll her eyes. Instead she goes through Harry’s half open backpack with one hand until she feels a thick rolled up plastic bundle, and then drags that out, then with two hands after sticking the cookie in her mouth.

“How is it?” Harry asks, as Liam rolls the banner out on the ground.

“It’s good, it looks nice,” says Liam. The banner’s got ‘POWDERPUFF GAME 2013’ on it in bright pink, and then there are some stickers and doodles and little decoration pieces. There’s also what appears to be a whited out, drawn in black Sharpie marker penis.

“Oh, yeah, that was Niall. She’s the one who helped me with the baking last night,” says Harry. “She thought I’d keep it but I whited it out when she left.” She giggles to herself.

“Good.” Well, Liam is grateful that Harry is head cheerleader than her friend.

Harry continues, “And I was asking how you thought the cookie was, actually, but thanks about the banner.”

“Oh!” Liam had nearly forgotten about that; the half damp cookie is still in her hand. She takes a quick bite and says, “Yeah, it’s good, it’s...”

Right. Well, it’s actually amazing, and Liam’s stunned that Harry’s made boxes of these. _Boxes._ The cookie’s not too hard but not too soft either, and if there’s ever been speculation about a perfect chocolate chip-to-cookie ratio, Harry Styles has evidently found it.

“Yeah?” says Harry, watching Liam and beaming.

Liam can’t help beam back. Nobody would be able to not beam back after eating one of these. “It’s actually, like, fantastic. And amazing.”

“You sure?” Harry still looks pleased, but Liam can see a little bit of worry in there, and--well, she’s never seen that before, but Harry looks more open and vulnerable and Liam kind of wants to hold her and keep her safe, even over stupid cookies. “Because Niall actually _might_ have put a quarter cup too much sugar, and I tried to balance it out with the eggs and the flour and things, but--”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Harry’s got to be trying to get another compliment out of her, because how could she be worried when she can bake like this? “Can I have another?” Liam asks.

Harry looks absolutely ecstatic, and gives her another. “It’s a good thing that I only let Niall have one last night,” she says. “Else she would’ve eaten all of this.”

“Well, I might,” says Liam with a little laugh, and then feels embarrassed.

But Harry only looks utterly charmed. “That’s okay, you’d deserve to,” she says, and there’s a little twinkle in her eyes that makes Liam unnerved.

She snaps back to looking at the banner and not staring at Harry again. “Right, well, um. Anyway,” she says. “Since you managed to get all those boys to sign up for cheerleading yesterday, d’you think--” She gestures at the banner. “You could get some to help set this up?”

“Won’t be a problem,” says Harry, and then actually _winks_. Harry Styles is completely unfair, and she’s wearing white shorts and flip-flops today which show off her little pink toenails. Liam has never called toes cute before, but there’s a first time for everything. And it usually happens in her mind.

She remembers what Louis had said at lunch yesterday, and vows to get over this or never to talk to Louis again.

*

“You are a stalker and a twat,” Zayn’s saying to Louis when Liam walks into homeroom.

Liam looks between the two of them. “What did I miss?”

“He went to Eleanor Calder’s fashion show yesterday,” says Zayn before Louis can even start to explain himself. “Snuck out of his house because his mum wouldn’t even _think_ of letting him go, which is a good move on her part. And almost got run over by Eleanor Calder's limousine.”

“It was worth it!” Louis says defensively. “I saw true love in her eyes! I saw it!”

“She was wearing sunglasses,” Zayn says to Liam.

“That’s the thing I don’t get about famous people,” says Liam, taking out her Physics notebook. She’s falling behind even worse, now that she’s trying to catch up with math, too. “Why wear sunglasses when the sun’s not out?”

“So you don’t get blinded by the paps, duh,” says Louis, scrawling _EC & LT_ on one of his binders. “I’m destined to be famous because I know this.”

“You need to get your head out of your arse,” says Zayn, and then turns to Liam. “So how was planning today, Liam? Is the game going to be as fun as last year?”

Liam rolls his eyes. Last year had been American tag-football and three girls got into a catfight and someone had accidentally knocked the sprinklers off. Zayn wouldn’t stop talking about it for weeks.

“Basketball’s a fun sport,” she says diplomatically.

“Ooh, right basketball,” says Zayn, and Louis says in an airy voice, “ _Girls playing basketball_.”

“Liam playing basketball,” Zayn says pointedly to him.

“Liam playing basketball,” Louis agrees.

Liam hits them both. “You two shut up.”

“But have you seen yourself in a jersey before, Liam?” says Zayn. “You _work_ it. Your shoulders and your arms, I mean.” She gestures to Liam’s current outfit, which is just a low plaid blazer with a white camisole and tight jeans. “This is nice and all, but you should just label yourself a jock and ruin everyone’s lives. In a good way,” she adds, when Liam raises her eyebrows.

“I still don’t understand why you quit the basketball team,” says Louis wistfully.

Liam hits him again. “Because I got involved in student council and you two are way too invested in my life,” she says.

“It’s what we do best,” says Louis cheerfully.

“And you should do your homework,” says Liam, turning back to her desk. “Because I’m going to do mine.”

She does get a sufficient amount of studying in and even though Louis yelps, “Shit, I have a meeting with the principal!” in the middle of class and dashes out of the room, it goes otherwise interrupted.

“What’s he have to see the principal for?” Liam asks Zayn.

Zayn shrugs. “I think he said something about Grimshaw and the confetti again,” she answers. “And something about it being ‘the last straw.’” They both roll their eyes.

Next period is first lunch, and Harry’s there for the bake sale despite it not being her lunch. They’ve got the whole student council and cheerleaders, Liam knows, but Harry had said she wouldn’t let anyone else handle her cookies and things and has figured how much they’d cost and everything, so she’ll trust only herself with them. Which kind of makes Liam feel assured, that Harry can be a control freak like her too.

Liam goes down to check on her, and also because the cafeteria is sort of near the language wing, where she has Spanish next. Harry’s at the announcements table as planned, with two large “BAKE SALE” posters hanging off them.

She’s also got that blond friend Liam had seen eating that cheesesteak from yesterday.

“Sold to two people already and it’s only been five minutes in,” says Harry, beaming. “Oh, and this is Niall.” She gestures to her friend.

“Hi.” Niall looks grumpy. “Harry won’t let me touch any of them.”

“That’s ‘cause you’ll touch all of them.”

“I won’t!” Niall says defensively, tipping back in her chair. She’s wearing a skirt and Liam quickly glances away before she can catch a glimpse of her knickers, which--Niall doesn’t even seem to notice that she’s practically putting herself on display.

“I’ll maybe touch, like, two,” she says. “Three at most.”

Harry snorts. “Don’t listen to her,” she says to Liam. Then, with a grin, “Are you gonna buy one?”

“Might was well, won’t I?” says Liam, and then pays while Harry gets her cookies all wrapped up in a napkin.

“Hey, that’s more than she paid for!” Niall says suddenly, knocking back forward.

“Shh,” says Harry conspiratorially, and then winks at Liam when she goes to open her mouth.

“If I need to pay for any more--”

“No, you don’t, I just snuck an extra in. Don’t worry about it,” says Harry, and then the bell rings. “You might want to get to class,” she adds, when Liam groans.

“Yeah,” she mutters, and then runs off to Spanish.

*

“So you probably already know them,” says Liam (and in the back of her mind, she’s wondering _when did Harry and I start getting along?_ ) “But, um, this is Zayn and Louis.” She gestures to her friends.

“Hi,” says Harry cheerfully, cheeks dimpling. “You want cookies?”

Niall’s playing on her phone, still looking disgruntled.

“Have you eaten yet?” Liam asks them. “It _is_ our lunch period now, you know.”

“Who’s the hot blonde?” Zayn whispers in Liam’s ear. “And what color are her knickers, I can’t see from here.”

Liam elbows Zayn without looking and Harry says, “Yeah, I’ve eaten on and off.”

“But not any of the brownies. _No_ one’s eaten the brownies yet.” Niall pouts. “Can’t I have a brownie, Harry?”

“You can’t,” says Harry.

“I’ll take one,” offers Zayn.

Liam and Louis look at her suspiciously because Zayn’s not hungry too often, and never buys things from the bake sales anyways. But when Harry gives Zayn her brownie, Zayn tosses it into Niall’s lap and says, “That’s for you.”

Niall almost jumps from her chair, which would’ve been dangerous considering she’s leaning back on it again. “What?” she says, forcing herself back upright (if Liam’s eyes don’t deceive her, she’s pretty sure Zayn’s deflated from not being able to see under her skirt anymore.) “What’d I do to deserve this?”

“Nothing, sweetie, just for being yourself,” says Zayn, and winks.

Niall looks Zayn up and down, from her tight dark skinny leg jeans to artsy shirt hanging off one skinny shoulder, and fashionably mussed up hair. “I think I’m okay with that,” says Niall as nonchalantly as she can, picking the napkin apart and then starting on her brownie.

“Harry,” says Louis, turning the conversation towards more important things. “May I just say that I’m a fan of your work. An absolute fan. Harry Styles, I am your fan. Can I call you Harriet?”

“That’s not what my name stands for, but sure,” says Harry, giggling.

Louis turns to Liam and pats her shoulder. “I like her. Good on you,” he says. “C’mon Zayn, let’s go get lunch so Liam can continue on flirting.”

“I am not flirting!”

Louis ignores her. “Coming Zayn?” she says, but Zayn is eyeing Niall across the table, who’s concentrating on her brownie but doesn’t seem to be completely unaware of Zayn’s staring.

“No, I. I think I’ll stay here,” says Zayn, her eyes flickering Niall up and down. Niall doesn’t react at all.

Harry’s pretty eyebrows are furrowed in amusement and confusion when she turns to Liam. “What work was he talking about?” she asks, once Louis’s left.

“He was probably talking about your cheerleading. Louis’s weird like that.” Liam gestures around the table. “You’ve been doing well, then?”

“Yeah,” Harry says brightly. “And some boys from the footie team said they’d help with the decorations Friday after school, so we’ll be okay.”

Liam nods. “That’s good.”

“And we’ve already made more than half we need so we should be fine,” says Harry, her eyes meeting Liam’s own. There’s something gentle in them and it’s unnerving, but not at all unpleasant.

A bunch of jock boys suddenly arrive from the cafeteria, laughing and jostling each other. They make their way over to the bake sale table, maybe a couple of them giving Liam and Zayn once overs.

“We’re missing you, Harry,” one of the boys says. “What’re you doing here?”

“Raising money for charity,” Harry says, and the boys laugh. Which confuses Liam, because she doesn’t know what’s so funny about that.

Harry’s all smiles though, and says, “You boys want one? Tell the girls I say hi, too.”

“Aren’t you gonna take a break, though? You and Niall,” says another boy. He glances at Niall, who gives him a little smile that doesn’t look at all interested. Zayn lets out a little possessive growl, though.

“Yeah, this is the class president, right? Liam Payne,” says a jock boy whose name Liam doesn’t know at all (which is a bit sad, Liam admits to herself, considering.) “She can look after the table while you take a break, it’s fine.”

Liam’s about to actually agree, because Harry really _might_ want a break; but then Harry says, “You know how I feel about my baking,” and they all laugh and hit each other on the back and high-five and Liam is glad she doesn’t have to understand them.

The boys buy at least half the brownies, and then when they’re gone, Harry says, “You two might want to go eat now, it’s almost halfway through lunch.”

“Right,” says Liam; she’d almost forgotten. “C’mon Zayn, let’s get going.”

“Can I eat too?” Niall whines. “All I’ve done is bat my eyelashes at some boys and yell at others for not paying what they owe. I’ve only eaten _one_ brownie, Harry. _One_.” She narrows her eyes. “When there are about fifty in front of me.”

Harry sighs. “Fine, you can have a cookie and a cupcake. Bye Liam, bye Zayn,” she says, as Niall suddenly lights up as if Harry’s just made an entire cake for just her.

Liam waves. “Seeya Harry.” She doesn’t think Niall will bother looking up from her cupcake to say anything to her.

Zayn says, “Bye Harry, Niall,” though, and they’re both pretty sure as they leave, they hear a muffled, “Bye Zayn.”

*

Liam and Harry decide on Thursday that there’s nothing really to be done, because most of what they need for the powderpuff game will _happen_ at the game, anyways, on Friday. In study hall Liam points out to Louis, “You should’ve signed up for cheerleading, you know.”

“Please, Liam. I know I have a fantastic arse, but you know that I can’t do choreography for shit,” says Louis.

“Do you remember ballroom dancing in primary school,” Zayn giggles, “when you were with that tall girl and she yelled at you because you couldn’t stop stepping on her feet.”

“Do you remember,” Louis says, “that time I punched your tit, because I’m about to?”

“No fighting, girls,” Liam chides, but on the inside she's bubbling, because-- “I’m just really proud of how things turned out, because they’re great.”

“They are great, they are,” Louis agrees. “And I’m looking forward to the game tomorrow.”

“I am too,” says Zayn. She brightens up suddenly. “Hey, d’you know if that Niall girl’s playing?”

“I think so?” Liam does recall seeing a _Niall_ on the team lists. “Yeah, probably.”

“Excellent. Yeah, now I’m definitely going,” says Zayn.

“You always go,” Louis points out. “It’s the only school activity you ever go to.”

“That’s because the other ones are dumb and I can’t be arsed to be in school longer than I have to when I have a bed at home,” says Zayn.

“You’re not going to even go to a few more for me?” Liam tries to make a show with her eyelashes. “When I’m the one organizing all of them?”

“Especially not for you, I know they’ll all be boring,” says Zayn, and then Liam shoves her playfully and Zayn tries to shove her back while nearly falling out of her seat.

“You should go to homecoming, though,” says Louis. “I know I am.”

“Ooh, you have a date?” Zayn turns around.

Louis shakes his head. “You know where my loyalties lie. I won’t settle any less for my dream girl. Or more,” he adds thoughtfully. “No, but it should be fun! We’re versus Idol High, and Liam says the dance’ll be underwater themed.”

“Sounds even more boring,” says Zayn.

“I’m showing up in my trunks,” says Louis.

“It is not boring, and _no_ , you’re not,” Liam says to Louis, who just cackles insanely. Knowing him, he probably will. “But yeah, Zayn, you should come. It’s next weekend.”

“Right,” says Zayn, “Like that’s supposed to persuade me. But since you _are_ practically in charge of it, I suppose I’ll go. If I have a date.”

“Done,” says Louis. “I’ll be your date.”

“Not you.” Zayn gives him a dirty look. “I want a specific date. Harry’s friend, that Niall girl.”

“Done,” Louis says again. “No one can resist you, mate. I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of this.”

Liam says, “I dunno about that... Zayn was giving her moon eyes all lunch yesterday and Niall didn’t do anything except say bye to her.”

“It’s a ploy. A tease,” Louis says. “Ask her and she’ll say yes. I promise you.”

*

Liam, Louis, and Zayn are chatting about something stupid Louis’s done when Harry and Niall suddenly plop their trays onto their lunch table, startling all three of them.

“Hi,” says Harry, mostly at Liam. She’s smiling. “Mind if we sit with you?”

“Of course not!” Liam says, and quickly moves her backpack so there’s room for Harry on the bench. “But, uh. Don’t you have other people to sit with?”

“Yeah, but we’d like to sit with you,” says Harry, cheerfully starting on her sandwich.

Zayn seems to be a little stunned at Niall, who’s sitting across from her on Harry’s other side, munching freely on a cheeseburger. Louis throws a crisp at Zayn.

Liam briefly turns to look at the cheerleaders, who look just as confused as Liam feels about Harry and Niall sitting with them.

Harry just says, “How’d you think you did on that Physics test yesterday?” though, which just makes Liam groan and almost put her face in her pizza.

“Terrible. I probably did awful, and I’m going to get disappointed looks from everyone,” she says, bringing her head back up.

Harry’s eyes are sympathetic. “Are you just busy with things? Do you need help?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Liam says quickly; she doesn’t want to burden Harry with something else. “Like I said before, I’m not that really--I’ll get it eventually. Hey,” she says, suddenly realizing something. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing the bake sale?”

“We’ve sold out!” says Niall happily, through a mouthful of chips. “Even though I ate the last cookie. But it’s done! There’s nothing left! No queda nada!”

“Spanish?” Zayn says suddenly, from her and Louis giggling about her chocolate milk in Louis’s beans. “You take Spanish?”

“French, too,” says Niall blithely. “Ne reste plus rien!”

Zayn looks like she’s about to eat Niall, which--which is disturbing in many aspects, Liam thinks, but also sweet. Sort of.

Harry asks, “Do you take any languages, Liam?”

“I take Spanish. I’m okay at it,” says Liam, “Zayn’s better though, she helps me.”

“School makes me sad sometimes," says Niall. “And talking about school.” She stares sadly at her cheeseburger.

“See.” Louis snaps his fingers in her direction. “You know what I’m talking about. Yes. Let’s talk about fun things.”

“I don’t like talking about school either,” says Zayn, looking hopefully at Niall.

Harry just looks confused. “All I did was ask if Liam took a language.”

“And the test thing, don’t forget the test thing,” Louis says. “Tests make me sad.”

“It’s not my fault if someone actually cares about how I’m doing in school, okay,” Liam says defensively, kicking Louis under the table, even though Louis doesn’t react at all. “My grade in English is dropping below average and I’m still barely passing in maths and physics.”

“I could help out, you know,” Harry offers. “With, I dunno. Something.” She smiles at Liam helpfully.

Liam feels these things which definitely aren’t flutters or knots stir up in her chest and she tries to ignore them. She doesn’t need _feelings_ right now, of all things, because of tomorrow afternoon and then the homecoming game and then homecoming, and her schoolwork and talking to people to getting the money from Harry’s bake sale to the Breast Cancer Awareness Fund, because that’s how Liam works. On stress and on the side, managing everything from her end.

Still, Harry finishes her sandwich and claps her hands. “So are you guys going to homecoming?” she asks.

“Obviously I have to,” says Liam, and Louis says, “Yeah,” and Zayn says, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Harry looks interested.

Liam glances at Niall, but Niall seems intent on working on her chips.

“If I find the right person to come with me.” Zayn is so _obviously_ staring at Niall. Liam doesn’t know if Niall’s pretending to not notice, or she really is completely oblivious.

Harry looks between them, amused. “Right,” she says, as Zayn tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear and returns to her food, still glancing at Niall every so often. “Do you guys have dates then?” she asks Louis and Liam.

Louis rolls his eyes. “I don’t need a date when I look great enough by myself,” he says. “Liam, here, though--”

“Liam here what? I’m sure I look great by myself, too,” Liam says defensively.

“No, no, no, none of that, I was just saying that you’re still on the market,” says Louis, a twinkle in his eye. “For anyone who’s interested.”

Liam kicks him again, and Louis laughs.

Harry definitely looks like she’s about to say something important, but some boys pass them by then--the same ones from yesterday, Liam thinks--and stop when they see Harry. “Sitting with the smart kids now?” one of them say.

“We’re not really smart,” Zayn points out. “It’s only Liam here who’s studious.”

“Yeah, and she’s not very smart,” says Louis.

Liam wonders how many times she’ll have to kick him before he starts reacting to the pain.

“Whatever, she’s in charge of things,” says another boy, and then doesn’t pay much attention to them anymore.

One shouts, “Fancy going to homecoming with me, Niall?”

“You’re not my type!” Niall shouts back, and the rest of them laugh at that too.

“You two going to a dance stag again?”

“We’ll see about that,” says Harry, and she’s looking at Liam and it’s unnerving and her heart feels like a jacuzzi, stuttering and warm and boiling.

*

In Physics, when Harry sees Liam she smiles, like always, but that’s all that ever happens, because Harry’s last name and Liam’s last name are too many letters apart. Well Liam can’t quite remember how far P is from S but it has to be a lot since they’re on opposite sides of the room and one row over.

For their lab, Liam partners with her friend Andy (wait, doesn’t Andy’s last name start with an S too?), but only because it looks like Harry’s going to be working with some boy who’s asked her and they know Harry better, probably. Liam and Andy go over to work at a table in the corner and Liam tries not to glance over at Harry too much.

“Liam,” says Andy suddenly, and Liam snaps her attention back to him, thinking _crap, have I been spacing out?_ But Andy doesn’t look bothered. “Do you, ah. Want to go to homecoming with me?”

Liam blinks. “No, sorry,” she says. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Andy furrows his eyebrows. “Is that like, a class president thing?”

She shakes her head. “No, I mean. I’m not interested. In going to the dance with you.”

“Oh.” Andy’s still frowning. “Is it... something I did wrong? Have I done something to offend you?”

“No, I just don’t want to go with you.” And then, catching herself, “I’m really sorry Andy.”

He still looks confused, and Liam instinctively looks in Harry’s direction, maybe as--security, or something. Which is--well, it’s still _Harry_ , who’s nice and all and maybe they’ve become friends, but--

But Harry is smiling and laughing with some boy, and twirling her long curly brown hair around her finger. She’s smiling and laughing and batting her eyelashes like she _always_ does, with a boy, with all these boys, and all the warmth in Liam’s chest turns to lead.

*

She can’t stop thinking about Harry, that’s the point.

“I shouldn’t have started to like her. As a _person_ ,” says Liam, when Louis opens his mouth. “Like, I found her so annoying at first, right? And she hasn’t changed, she’s still annoying.”

“Right,” says Louis doubtfully.

“Okay, she’s not annoying, she’s.” Liam sighs. “She’s like. Look at her.”

They’re getting their lunch together, and after paying, spot Harry immediately, who’s talking to Niall and some other cheerleader girls. The cheerleaders look like they’re in love with Harry too, like Harry’s some goddess who’s taken all of them under her wing. In fact, all of them except for Niall seem to be hanging onto her every word.

“Good thing Zayn’s girl is immune,” Louis says thoughtfully, voicing Liam’s thoughts.

“Harry told me a couple of days ago that they’ve been best friends since they were eleven,” says Liam. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“No, Niall just looks like she’s just not buying it,” says Louis, because Niall’s nudging Harry’s side and giving her teasing little looks and Harry’s rolling her eyes, making a show of ignoring her.

“You’re the Zayn to Harry’s Niall. Or Harry’s the Niall to your Zayn.” Louis frowns then. “What am I, the pet dog?”

“You’d be a monkey,” says Liam, as they sit down at their lunch table.

Harry and Niall join them. “Hi,” Harry says, and Liam resists the urge to run away.

After a beat (and Harry might’ve glanced at Niall for the briefest of seconds, or maybe it was Liam’s imagination), Harry asks, “Where’s Zayn?”

“Art room, doing art things,” says Louis. He claps his hands. “So, today’s the big game, girls. You excited?”

“Yep!” It’s obvious Niall is playing now; she’s got paint and stickers all over her face already. She asks Liam brightly, “Where’s your war paint, Liam?”

“Still in my locker,” Liam laughs, avoiding Harry’s eyes. “I want to go through the school day looking normal, you know.”

“Well I don’t!” Niall chirps. “I’m going to let those juniors know that we’re gonna win! You girls are gonna suck it!” she says just as a group of girls who are also wearing war paint (and t-shirts that say JUNIORS) pass them. “Yer gonna suck my dick!”

“I don’t,” says Liam, and then she laughs. And then instinctively, she almost meets Harry’s eyes--which _does_ happen for less than half a second, before she remembers Physics yesterday and Harry always.

She quickly goes back to her food, though she can see Harry look at her funny, and pretends it doesn’t sting. “I heard the boy cheerleaders already made a routine for this afternoon,” she says, poking at her potato salad.

“Yep,” says Harry. Liam can still feel her staring. “I saw it yesterday after school, it’s going to be great.”

“Did you?” says Liam, because of course Harry saw it, because Harry has a lot of boy friends, and girl friends, and--

Harry opens her mouth, maybe to say, yeah, the choreography _is_ going to be great, and one of the boy cheerleaders is her date because he’s great and boyish and sporty and not the awkward class president who puts too much thought into planning dumb powderpuff games--

But none of that happens because suddenly a boy comes and he looks cute and flustered and he’s looking at Harry and wiping his palms on his jeans and he says breathlessly, “Uh, hi Harry.”

“Hi Josh.” Harry gives him a friendly smile, a nice smile, and Liam repeats in her head over and over again, _Harry Styles is completely unfair._

“I was wondering,” this Josh kid mumbles. “If you. If you wanna go to homecoming with me.”

“Um,” says Harry, and Liam sort of expects her to look at Niall first, for consolation--but Harry looks at _her_ , instead. “Um, no, I’m--I’m sorry Josh,” she says to him.

And that’s it. Liam can’t take it anymore, Harry’s teasing, and these dumb-- _feelings_ , and noticing the way Harry’s wave of curls bounce on her shoulders when she abruptly looks at Liam again when Liam stands up. It’s just not--Liam grabs her backpack, picks up her tray, and says, “I’m going to go check on Zayn in the art room.” And she dumps her trash and leaves and doesn’t really look back at any of them.

She tells herself _it’s Harry’s fault_ when she knows it’s her own.

*

Liam actually does go to Zayn and the art room because she doesn’t really know where else to go, just--not a place where Harry can be around giggling with boys and looking at Liam like she matters and then turning boys down.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong,” says Zayn when Liam says all this to her.

Liam sighs. She’s sitting on the stool that was once Zayn’s, except Zayn’s standing to paint because apparently she can’t paint otherwise. “I just--she _teases_ me, like she flirts with all these boys so I’m sure that I can’t have a chance, but then she turns them down, and.”

“All of them?” says Zayn. “Or just this one?”

“Well just this one, but I mean.” Liam picks at her fingers. “You’ve seen the way she acts around boys. She always acts the same. You’d think she’s desperate.”

“Or maybe that’s just the way she is,” Zayn says wisely.

“Maybe. But she still--she still likes everyone, and everyone likes her. Even _me_ ,” says Liam reluctantly. “Why can’t I just not like her? Life would be easier.”

“It goes against nature,” says Zayn. “That’s all I have for you, Liam, wise general words that I’ve stolen from philosophy class today.”

Liam laughs and Zayn says, “I think I’m done for the day, what d’you think?” When Liam shrugs, Zayn says, “Good enough.” She starts packing her things. “I’m going to go down to lunch now.”

Liam whines, “No, you’re supposed to stay here and listen to me complain.”

“I’d love to,” says Zayn, “but personally I think you’re complaining about nothing and that you should ask her out already. Plus, I’ve got a blond little Irish girl to woo today.” She winks and then leaves Liam sitting there by herself in the art room.

It’s not too terrible because Liam just thinks _Harry Styles is an unfair person_ over and over again and maybe doodles Harry’s name on a canvas and then panicks because it’d been in paint and she doesn’t know how to dispose of canvases, until she sees the big trash can in the corner and scribbles Harry’s name out before dumping it there. She also gets to English earlier than usual, which is a plus.

By the time the last bell rings Liam has vowed to not think about Harry, or at least in considerable silence in the back of her mind so she can focus on important things. She grabs her gym bag from her locker and dumps her backpack in there, and then gets her things on in the girls’ locker room, all the while remembering--Harry’s going to be there, she’s not going to be playing but she’s going to be there, watching from the stands and probably near the cheerleaders and she’ll be cheering for the senior team and Liam’s never felt more self-conscious in a t-shirt and basketball shorts before.

Harry’s probably out in the gym now, actually, since she’s supposed to be the one making sure that the audience is inline and that the banner and things are hung up, anyway. Liam tries not to think about that, too; when the other girls come she puts on her class president face and says, “Are you ready girls?”

The girls cheer, and Niall pushes her way to the front and shouts, “We’re more than ready! Hi, Liam!” she adds, going in for a fist bump.

Liam hits her fist and Niall sort of grabs her boob, which is weird, but--this is Niall, so. “Remember, even though we’re playing against each other, we can still be friends,” she says.

“Except when we kick your sorry arses into the ground! Go seniors!” shouts Niall.

The juniors retort with something that Niall laughs at, though, so that’s okay. “Get dressed, and then we’ll all go outside!” Liam calls to them, and then heads to the gym to make sure everything is running smoothly.

Everything is: the audience is chattering excitedly in their seats with thundersticks in hand. Liam spots Zayn and Louis in the bleachers making sexual motions with them, and when they see Liam looking at them, Louis shouts, “Hey, Liam, watch this!” and rubs his two thundersticks slowly and suggestively, squeaking together. Liam rolls her eyes.

The banner is strung at one of the bleachers’ sides, and the backboards are spray painted white, with random little symbols and “go juniors!” on one, “go seniors!” on the other. They did a good job, Liam thinks, even if it actually didn’t take _that_ much work, and then she makes a mistake of turning to the other side of the gym.

Harry is with the boy cheerleaders, and from what it looks like, they’re teaching her their routine. Harry, unfortunately, is also wearing her cheerleader uniform, and when she meets Liam’s gaze, she shouts, “Hi Liam!” and waves at her with a pom-pom.

Liam puts her head in her hands--this is not the time for that, not now. She goes back into the girls’ locker room and ties her hair into a ponytail. _Pretend that you’re in High School Musical_ , she thinks to herself--which, yeah, is totally dorky, and just another reason Harry wouldn’t like her.

Or maybe Harry would think it’s cute but this is still not the time for that.

Liam takes a deep breath.

“Ready girls?” she says when it looks like most of them are ready.

“Yeah!” they cheer, and Niall yells, “YEAH, GO SENIORS!”

“Let’s go beat each other healthily and civilly!” says Liam, leading them out, and feels a little bit better when they all laugh.

*

As it turns out, Niall is a terrible basketball player. She’s shorter than most of the girls and can barely catch the ball when they pass it to her and every time she tries to make a shot, she tries to slam dunk it. Which is a terrible attempt, considering “shorter than most of the girls.”

The boy cheerleaders aren’t as enthusiastic as Liam would like them to be, but she does hear “Go! Seniors! S-E-N, I-O-R-S!” from the crowd and turns to the source of the noise. Then she sees Harry leading the rest of the actual school cheerleaders into a clap-chant sort of thing, and she almost forgets where she is.

“Ball, Liam!” calls a fellow senior girl, and passes it to her. Liam dribbles and dodges the girls who try to block her, and shoots barely behind the three-point line.

The chant turns into a victory cheer then, and Liam tries not to think about it too hard.

She does hear, “Go Liam! Go Liam! Go, go, go Liam!” somewhere else though, and apparently Zayn’s taken it on herself to put herself on Louis’s shoulders and hit her thundersticks together like a maniac.

Liam passes Niall on the court, who glances at Louis and Zayn too. Zayn changes the cheer to, “Go Niall! Go Niall! Go, go, go Niall!” before Louis hits her and Zayn nearly falls off his shoulders.

At halftime, the seniors are leading by thirty-two to twenty-eight and most of Liam’s warpaint has been smudged off. Niall looks like a mess, her own paint smudged randomly on her cheeks and stickers randomly peeling off her face. Liam sees her go over to Harry and the two of them laugh--Harry lights up like a firework, mouth too big and inviting and Liam shakes her head of too many thoughts and goes over to the juniors out of goodness.

Zayn and Louis come down and Louis says, “Lookin’ good in that senior shirt!”

“Hope you appreciated the cheers,” says Zayn, grinning from ear to ear.

“I did until you changed the lyrics,” says Liam.

“Yeah, you think she noticed?” Zayn glances at Niall who’s still laughing with Harry.

Liam quickly turns away. “Looked like it,” she says, and Zayn looks pleased with herself.

“So Liam, what’s this I hear about you and Harry and you being frustrated?” says Louis, because of _course_ Zayn’s told him and doesn’t even look sorry for it. “Because from what I’ve been seeing, Li, Harry’s been giving you all these signs and you should just go for it.”

“She’s just--there’s no way she’d be into me, Louis, I just know it.” Liam shakes her head. “The way she talks to everyone else--” she gestures in the general direction “--you’ve seen, she flirts with everyone and it means nothing.”

“She doesn’t really flirt with you,” Louis says seriously. “So that means something?”

Liam shakes her head again. “Yeah, but--” she says, but then the buzzer sounds and Louis says, “Gotta go!” and he and Zayn leave back up.

For the rest of the game Liam does her best to focus on playing, but she can hear Harry’s voice in the stands and it’s making her just want to sneak glances at Harry. Which she does, some of the time, slightly hoping that--what, maybe Harry will meet her eyes again and see that Liam’s trying to say things are okay now? Because it’s okay and Liam is--right, Liam can be mature and they can be friends. Because Harry really is okay, even though she’s terribly pretty and terribly nice and there’s something about her that’s causing the knots in Liam’s stomach to pull her toward Harry.

“Liam! Pass me the ball!” Niall shouts, and Liam’s so stuck in her head that she stupidly does.

Niall jumps and somehow manages to make the shot, which actually happens to be the winning shot for the senior team, just as the buzzer scores.

“Yeah!” Niall whoops, jumping nearly three feet in the air as Liam and the other girls practically tackle her. The juniors join them too and they practically fall over in a mess of limbs, as the audience runs down from the stands to congratulate them.

Liam picks herself up and starts to look for Louis and Zayn--but she’s stopped when someone practically throws themselves at her and she almost falls over and she finds herself with an armful of Harry.

“What--” she starts, and then Harry’s kissing her on the mouth, long brown ringlets cascading down both their faces as Liam, astonished, kisses back.

When Harry breaks apart and stares into Liam’s face--she’s breathing in little puffs and Liam can feel her heart bursting out of her chest like balloons--Harry says, “Couldn’t’ve picked less phallic objects to use as cheer material?”

“What?” says Liam, half laughing, and Harry shows her her thunderstick--had she been holding that the whole time?--and Liam laughs for real this time and bats it away.

“What’s this,” says Liam, still stunned at what just happened, as Harry carefully lets herself out of Liam’s arms and back onto the gym floor.

“I’ve just,” Harry says, and then scuffs her shoes. “I’ve really liked you, Liam. I mean, I still do,” she hurriedly corrects.

“I,” says Liam. “Really?”

Harry laughs. “Well, I’ve just kissed you, didn’t I?”

Liam wants to kiss her dimples, and she says, “Yeah, you did,” but then she remembers things, like the way Harry is, and adds, “Are you sure?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Zayn talking to Niall.

“Of course I’m sure,” says Harry. “I mean, I know I’ve got like. Other friends and all that shit, but--you’re really, um.” She blushes. “You’re the one I actually like. A lot.”

“Why?” says Liam, stunned.

Harry shrugs. “I think you’re interesting,” she says simply. “Also,” she nods to the court, “you looked amazing out there.”

“You’re probably talking about someone else,” says Liam, but she giggles and Harry giggles as well and says, “No, I’m really not. Also I’ve discovered you’re a fantastic kisser, so there’s that.”

It’s Liam’s turn to blush now, and all she can say is, “Yeah.”

“And,” says Harry, glancing at the ground before looking back up. “Um. I wanted to know if. If you’d like to go to homecoming with me.”

She’s got her hands behind her back and her legs look miles long under her white-and-red skirt. Liam wants to lean her forehead against Harry’s to see if those eyes are as green as they look from here.

“Yeah,” Liam says, almost immediately. “Yes, I mean--even though I’ll be doing important things--” Trust her to bugger up saying a simpl _e ye_ s.

“Student council duties, right?” says Harry, and Liam nods.

“I think I can live with that,” says Harry, and then she beams and Liam beams back.

They both hear Louis shout from somewhere “just kiss already!” (and honestly, Liam isn’t sure if he’s talking about them or maybe Zayn and Niall) and Liam says, “We already have.” But Harry says, “There’s no harm in doing it again, right?”

And there isn’t, because they do kiss again and Liam feels like her chest is full enough to burst and Harry Styles still isn’t fair. But Harry’s got her arms wrapped around Liam’s shoulders and they’re going to homecoming together and when Harry pulls away for the second time Liam can see every detail of her eyes, so--Liam smiles, because yeah, she thinks, this is a fair trade.


End file.
